passion is a painful transformation
ZOMG COMMUNITY! SO AMAZING!
OMG THAT WAS SO GOOD! Definitely up there with Remedial Chaos Theory and the paintball and zombie episodes and Mixology Certification in my favorites. SO GOOD. SO HILARIOUS. I was just like, HOLY SHIT KEN BURNS and they took that on and made it their own and it was SO GOOD.
OF COURSE Britta is a terrible photographer. OF COURSE Annie is the ministering angel to both sides. OF COURSE Jeff wants to prolong the conflict to get out of class. And OF COURSE, no one can hurt Troy and Abed like they can hurt each other. IT WAS ALL SO PERFECTLY FITTING. They keep hitting each other because it's the last thing they'll ever do together. The magic friendship hats and Jeff actually going back to the dean's office and dusting them off, an act of sincerity he can't capitalize on because no one else knows (well, except us)!
THE ALL TOMATO! CHANGLORIOUS BASTARDS! THE PERFECT EVOCATION OF A PBS PLEDGE DRIVE! The hilarious descriptions of the confusing building names!
Man, I just draw a million sparkly hearts around this episode because wow. Wow. So good. So, so good.
***
Today's poem:
Persephone
Are you listening to this ocean, its wet lip? Or the neighboring field: all
that can be done has been, but I do believe my pomegranate will yield
a few sacred seeds (that silver treasure-tree), enough to alter darling you
from a terrestrial sop to the queen of shades-and do listen to that snow,
soundless in our ruined amphitheater where the usual tragic play
trundles through its second, bloodbath act, so kneel and say your steady prayers,
take tiny pills, remain a viable human. The king's people have brought
spades and spears, the flowered ground is doubtless broken-and it dances, the thought
of building our own typhoon: a catastrophe all ours and high damage
at which we'll laugh not cry. The daughters of the local cineaste await: fringed
with golden manmade light is Newman's idol face, shines like ripe wheat hissing
from their mother's scythe. Passion is a painful transformation, not kissing
your fingers to the flickering air but that flesh torn and partaken:
red cell with its hard center, rapture, whirl of those horses, & split ground aching.
~Lightsey Darst
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/452133.html.
people have commented there.
OMG THAT WAS SO GOOD! Definitely up there with Remedial Chaos Theory and the paintball and zombie episodes and Mixology Certification in my favorites. SO GOOD. SO HILARIOUS. I was just like, HOLY SHIT KEN BURNS and they took that on and made it their own and it was SO GOOD.
OF COURSE Britta is a terrible photographer. OF COURSE Annie is the ministering angel to both sides. OF COURSE Jeff wants to prolong the conflict to get out of class. And OF COURSE, no one can hurt Troy and Abed like they can hurt each other. IT WAS ALL SO PERFECTLY FITTING. They keep hitting each other because it's the last thing they'll ever do together. The magic friendship hats and Jeff actually going back to the dean's office and dusting them off, an act of sincerity he can't capitalize on because no one else knows (well, except us)!
THE ALL TOMATO! CHANGLORIOUS BASTARDS! THE PERFECT EVOCATION OF A PBS PLEDGE DRIVE! The hilarious descriptions of the confusing building names!
Man, I just draw a million sparkly hearts around this episode because wow. Wow. So good. So, so good.
***
Today's poem:
Persephone
Are you listening to this ocean, its wet lip? Or the neighboring field: all
that can be done has been, but I do believe my pomegranate will yield
a few sacred seeds (that silver treasure-tree), enough to alter darling you
from a terrestrial sop to the queen of shades-and do listen to that snow,
soundless in our ruined amphitheater where the usual tragic play
trundles through its second, bloodbath act, so kneel and say your steady prayers,
take tiny pills, remain a viable human. The king's people have brought
spades and spears, the flowered ground is doubtless broken-and it dances, the thought
of building our own typhoon: a catastrophe all ours and high damage
at which we'll laugh not cry. The daughters of the local cineaste await: fringed
with golden manmade light is Newman's idol face, shines like ripe wheat hissing
from their mother's scythe. Passion is a painful transformation, not kissing
your fingers to the flickering air but that flesh torn and partaken:
red cell with its hard center, rapture, whirl of those horses, & split ground aching.
~Lightsey Darst
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/452133.html.
people have commented there.